A Different World
by Gigaswoo
Summary: An alternate timeline of the original game. Follows the perspectives of multiple characters with new and old faces. Focused on espescially among them is a certain hooker. Loosely based off the first game and more of a "What if?" story. Extreme violence and possible sexual content.


Hotline Miami: A Different World

Part One: A Strange Box

Prelude: The Hooker

"Hi! This is Stephanie from Miami Nightwear Emporium! The lingerie you ordered should have been delivered last night. Don't wait too long to open it up and please your man!"

"Um, excuse me but I didn't order any lingerie."

Oh, an answering machine. Damn it I'm not used to these things.

It was probably a mistake. Maybe they just sent it to the wrong house.

Normally I would just return it and inform them of a mistaken delivery but… it wasn't taped. That was… odd.

I shouldn't pry. I have to take this box to the store I can't just… look in and see what some stranger was going to wear and have sex in that's… gross.

I should get changed into my green sweat shirt and pants. Put my white sneakers on and just get this out of the way.

So after exiting my small and rotting house bought dirt cheap by my "Friends" as a den as well as my living quarters I got on my light green bike and started riding. Oh um after I put my same shade of green bike helmet ton of course. I'm not much good if I get brain damage now would I?

Fifteen minutes and some angry car drivers later I got to the Miami Mall and parked my bike right outside the rack area. Chained it to one of those metal arch things.

The mall looked kind of like an ordinary tall building from the outside in beige stone. But inside was more modern, white felt more bigger on the inside actually.

I had actually been to the Emporium before. So two minutes to get there. Into the purple decorated and tack establishment and up to the counter to confront an uncomfortably male employee.

"Um excuse me I have something to return." Said I as I slammed the box on the counter. Probably harder than I intended but I'm really not in a mood for being messed around and I just wanted to save myself the embarrassment of speaking to someone working here of the um…. Opposite sex. He was an ok looking guy really with his shaggy blonde hair and his soft blue eyes. I'm more impressed with his professionalism.

"Oh um. I'm sorry if the product was not up to your standard Ma'am. Could you please tell me what the problem is?"

He had a soft tone of voice…. Felt kind of weird I'm used to the opposite.

"Oh nothing is wrong with it I doubt. It was just a mistake it was delivered to me and I never made an order."

A look of realization struck him. He put on that whole "Service with a smile" shtick and placed both hands gently on the box.

"Oh I greatly apologize ma'am. We get this kind of thing wrong all the time. You know sometimes there are genuine mistakes and other times the delivery guys just get lazy."

I gently nodded as he opened the box… I don't know what to say to him because he looked like he just saw something that broke his mind in half and it took him a few seconds to put it back together.

"Um… are you sure this came from us?"

Now I was really curious. But I thought to answer his question first.

"Um well, yes. A message elf ton my answering machine said it was from you."

He looked at me with…. Well that wasn't a look I got since my mom found out what I did for a living.

"Um… we don't do that kind of thing here ma'am. I mean I'm not judging you or anything whatever it is that gets you off but… this is kinky. Even for us."

He reaches a hand inside and pulls out… some kind of grey rubber horse mask.

It wasn't mine but you couldn't believe how red my face turned and the hot flush that went through my whole body. So all I could do was mutter an urgent apology, take the mask, put it in the box, grab the box and get the hell out of there.

That must have been the fastest I ever put the damn thing on my bike, grab the bike, forgot about putting on the helmet and just start riding. Luckily I got back home with no injury except for my wounded dignity.

Who the fuck sent me this?

Chapter 1: Notes

It turns out the mask wasn't the only thing in the box. There was also a box of powdered latex gloves, two sharp kitchen knives and a note.

Yeah…. Fuck that.

A crumpled note and a fireplace later I put the box under my bed. To be honest I don't know why I did that but. Put those things in the trash? I guess I was worried I'd be found out for some kind of conspiracy to commit murder thing.

All I did was sat on my pink bed in my white wall and stained room. Thinking about how the day could possibly get any weirder.

"SARAH! OPEN THE DOOR BITCH!"

Well…. I could do with my version of normal right now.

As for that guy with the voice like a damn cannon? That's Wilson Fisker.

"Calm down! I'm coming!"

"Heh heh. Oh yeah that's what you'll be doin' a lot today."

Dirty bastard. Funny thing is he only ever lays hand son me if I'm in need of some "Discipline". Otherwise he just watches while the other porn star shave their way with me. Sometimes with women as well. I can't go beyond that it's really not something I like to look back on even though I lost count of how many damn years I get paid for sharing my flesh. I'm just surprised I never had to go to a clinic.

I collect some of my um "Undergarments" and shove them in a paper bag. All I knew was we'd be in front of the camera today so nothing back-alley. I opened the front door and there he was, big, black and bald in that pink button shirt of his.

"Get in the car. Lucky you you're goin' soft core today."

Yippeee. My favourite.

Well we got into the black SUV parked outside. It must have been around a good 88° outside so luckily I had the heat on my side as I psyched myself up for sex by thinking of…. Um well sex. Sometimes I get um…. Not visually appealing clients so I like to think I'm being gently laid down by a strong, confident hunk. Brown hair, not too much hair on his face but a little stubble. Soft blue eyes staring down at me. His hand cupping my breast and the other snakes down to my… my.

Ohh… yeah. Mmmmm… yeah.

"My, my eager already aren;t we?"

"Huh?"

Of course as we were driving in the car I had uncocnsiously touched myself right in the front passneegr sea tnext to Wilson. Well I'm used to him watching me do far more.

I neevr muttered an apology because ehe seeme dto like it. Vouyeuor that he is. Hate that word, too classy for the kind of person ot means. How about "Dirty fuckin' peepin' Tom?"

"So you took the pill right? Condoms as always will be on but I am not gonna' raise your kid and if it comes to that dreaded P word I'll drag your ass to the damn abortion clinic myself, got it?

I simply nodded. I didn't really like kids anyway.

Off we go and park right in front of South west 53rd place. After a twenty minute drive with Wilson's ever so graceful honking skills. The place was a fancy house that disguised the fact that it was his own personal studio. For porn. Yeah in case you haven't figured it out.

We exited as I carefully closed the door while he slammed his shut. How come he was allowed to do that and I got chewed out last time?

Anyway we walked dinto the impressive looking house. Now you'd be surprised considering the people I work for but some of the rooms in this joint have carpets patterned after the American flag, crazy right? Well this place does belong to Wilson so I guess he was allowed to decorate this place after his nationality but I'm surprised a lot of the other guys haven't chewed him out. Business come before patriotism I guess.

"Hey! Hey! Wilson my friend! How goes the day?" That was Ivan. No not that Ivan. Ivan Makarov. He was a real sleaze bag who didn't bother getting into my panties because he knew he'd lose all his teeth if he messes with Wilson's "Property". Fine by me I felt my skin crawl around him.

He had long greasy black hair and blue eyes, had some warts on his face as well. Ew.

That fancy white suit he wore didn't do much to help him poor guy.

"Can it Ivan. Where's the client?"

Ivan notably looked offended but honestly I'm glad Wilson rejected the greeting as long as I won't have to look at him for too long any more.

"Oh well he's in the bedroom upstairs. Waiting for the footage."

Ok so he was a watcher. So that must mean I'm going to meet another "Star". I didn't mind so much they usually weren't bad looking. Certainly better than Ivan.

"Right. You. Go into the bed room down the corridor. I don't care which one and get changed. You know where to go next."

I nodded and walked down the corridor passing Ivan, half expecting an ass slap that never came. I found myself in the red and white striped carpeted bedroom with the red and blue bed next to each other. Kind of reminded me of a barbershop, Reminds me of that pole they have outside.

I took off my baggy green sweat clothes, then my sneakers and finally my plain white bra and panties. They were laid out on the bed and out came the black camisole, panties, stockings and high heels. Now don't get me wrong wearing stuff like this was a helpful turn on but probably not as much to me as it helps the guy I'll meet later.

I just hope Wilson doesn't disagree with my choice and beat the shit out of me again like last time when apparently I got the Star Wars theme off by a single day.

Now I was concerned about Ivan finding the bag and… yeah I'll just hide it under the pillow. That should work.

I walked back out into the corridor. Perfectly aware of the gaze of some of the fellow Russian co-workers. Some were just Americans working for the same organization. It was kind of hard to tell who was what until you either saw the tattoos or heard their accents.

Then I walked past Sergei… his surname was Bellinkov I think? He quickly turned his gaze away and I could see a light shade of red on him… he wan nice. He treated me alright but he would never intervene if someone of higher rank than him decided to either use me as a punching bag or make fun of me at my own expense. I think he got mistreated by the others disguised as banter because he was a bit more sensitive when it came to the girls, or anyone really. Thought of him as a "Pussy".

I wonder what kind of pussy is able to be in the Russian Mafia?

I presented myself to Wilson, he seemed to be pleased enough. Just gave me a slight nod of approval after scanning me and let me walk into the "Cum for the camera" room as I like to cal it. Yeah I'm not much of a lady.

The guy there was… ok in appearance. Tanned skin, red hair, red small goatee, about a good foot taller than me, nice face, butt naked. I could do this.

Oh but the room wouldn't be complete without Wilson walking in and eating out of a bag of cheesy poofs. He set up the cameras to record and gave us the signal.

Well here goes….

Chapter 2: A Reminder

Ok so that must have been about half an hour at least… phew.

"Alight that's a wrap. Now go on get the fuck out go home. Both of you."

I'm probably gonna' regret this…

"Um Wilson? You drove me here."

At least he only assaulted me with a ten dollar bill…

"Get the bus."

I guess he didn't want me ruining his SUV. To be honest I could use a shower.

"You'll get your pay and other stuff in two days after the client pays up. As usual profits from actual sale of the footage to other buyers will not go to you."

Yeah as you have told me so many times before… damn I needed a fix.

I gathered the discarded undergarments from the floor. I don't want to wear them again until they take a nice trip in the washing machine.

"Hey that was great. You uh wanna' do this again some time?"

The porn star I never learned the name of asked me a question I never usually get. I don't really like to date guys when I had sex with them on first meeting.

"Sorry but I'm a professional."

He only muttered a disappointed "Damn" and I couldn't give a shit. Sorry but he was terrible. Really. I didn't want to tell him in case that was his little button you try not to press.

Back down the corridor, Ivan wasn't around fortunately. Paper bag untouched din the room. Changed clothes. Got the damn bus after leaving. Walked home. Found a note pinned to my door with a shoe box on the step.

Ok so it was still blazing hot and despite that I had an ok day for what it's worth. If it was a bad day I may have actually just ripped up the note and kicked the damn shoebox down the road but maybe it was important. If it had anything to do with the box well… now that was a sinking feeling.

I slowly took the note off the door. It was pinned by a dart… with blood on the tip… nice.

 _Dear Sarah_

 _Considering that you have never shown up to the address we requested you to go to earlier. We have to assume you ignored the request. For your sake you better not have disposed of the box's contents. There was someone else before you who was sent the very same thing and refused to do as he was told. He suffered the consequences and so will you if you do not comply. Tomorrow you will receive an answering machine message. You will be asked to go to an address to pick up a delivery of cookies. Those ingredients in the box are very delicate and have to be used carefully._

 _We left a gift for you in the shoebox. Consider it a disciplinary warning._

They do know I had a job to do right? Risk Wilson beating me up again? Ok I was used to it but I missed filming twice before already ad there's a very good reason the second time was two years ago.

I had an idea what would be in the shoebox. Likely some kind of deceased rodent like a rat with it's entrails hanging out. But no it was actually something scarier.

A black and white photograph of "Miami Sate Retirement Home". I knew exactly what it meant. My mom is there.

Bastards were threatening the only known family I have. Now I know what else that could go into the fireplace.

I could have sworn I slammed the door behind me harder than I ever did before. That must have got the attention of some of the Russian thugs and working girls in here. Hey I did say it was a den as well a my home.

"What the fuck?" Said one particular ass hole named Fabien. He wore a whit polo shirt and black jeans. He has some kind of interest in duality. Also he has a short brown mohawk and a pierced nose with a lip ring. No tats though. Not too odd for a peon in our little syndicate I guess.

"You bitch. Slamming doors in own house? Must have no respect for own property."

He seriously said that with as much contempt as he could muster. As if he owned the damn place. To be honest I didn't own it but his superiors did. He was hardly unique in that regard though when it comes to lowly muscle thinking they own the home of a working girl as well as it being in the name of some Russian head honcho.

"So having a party tonight, Fabien?"

I knew to change the subject whenever he was getting pissed off. Guy had the attention span of a damn fish.

"Heh heh. Every night is party in here. Plenty good business for dope."

He smiled. I had half the mind to tell him that it was just the beginning of the afternoon but he tended to get a bit crazy with that switch-blade of his. At least I know the rest of the mob would come after him like hell fury if he ever stepped out of line but I valued my life and my body. As much as I do in the way of injury anyway.

"So did um… anyone come into my room lately? Since I was gone?" I hope not. I don't want to explain the bag and the contents I wouldn't want to be caught with anywhere. Especially with the Russian Mob. They tend to be paranoid for admittedly good reasons.

"No. Not that it should be of concern to whore like you. If you don't mind there will be action going on in there soon. When Johns show up girls will be coming in and out of room. Normally I'd get you involved but Wilson prefers you clean."

He sure has a funny idea of clean. I can get out of here then and Fabien wouldn't give a shit.

"I have to get something from there. It's hard to concentrate on on my job with all the noise you guys make."

He simply nodded. "Heh. Like it's that complicated. Get grip."

You're not the one who has to perform in front of a camera and humiliate yourself, as well as give your gender a bad name ass hole.

So I passed all the other Russian punks and girls who only are deemed less classy than me because they don't get to be in front of the camera. Yeah I felt kind of sorry for them but it's their fault for getting themselves hooked on their dope in the first place like I did.

I opened the door to my room. I must have dived under the pink bed and grabbed the bag from under my bed. I placed the bag of undergarments inside the wide brown wood cupboard. I doubt anyone would look in there. Until I realized some junkie would think it was drugs so I just tipped them out in there as well as the heels. They made a hard thud against the surface.

Now as for my plan on staying somewhere else. Well I'll just take a little form my stash under the mattress. I suppose two hundred is enough. Then I take the bag of weird and leave to a B&B. Make sure to come back home so that I get the answering machine. Luckily these people would be too zonked to notice a little message. Not that they'd care anyway.

I lifted the mattress to revealed a flat cardboard box. I never really kept count of how much I put in there but it must be in the lower end of two digits by now. I kept them together with rubber bands. I made sure to take two fifties and five twenties before I closed the box and put the mattress down again. I knew these people would rob me if they found this. So who would think to look under a damn mattress and not an actual bed?

I took the bag after pocketing the bills and hastily stepped over some outstretched legs of hookers high on probably every drug I heard of and mob punks giving me the evil eyes for no damn reason other than to be intimidating. At least the adult and older mob guys didn't try so hard.

Fabien never cared to notice my leaving. The hot air felt as relieving as kicking the shoebox from the porch did. I climbed onto my bike, put helmet on and pedalled away from a home not so sweet.

I knew whoever sent me the bag asked me to kill. Kill who? Maybe it was in the note I burned. What makes them think I'll kill anyone just because of some threats I don't know are empty or not. Maybe they lied about the guy they sent this stuff too before? Do they really mean that message hidden in the photograph of the retirement home?

I keep asking myself these questions I know I'm going to get a brain injury. They should wait for now.

Chapter 3: Isolation

Now while sitting on a soft single bed with your legs curled up to your chest may sound appealing I was doing that at this time for an unappealing reason. I thought I would cry like I usually do in self-pity when I' by myself in my room but I was honestly too afraid too.

I know these guys are watching. I don't know if they could be doing it by taking some shots of me with a long ranged camera with those extra lens things you can add to them. So that's why the white curtain was closed over but to be honest they probably got some great award for photography worthy entries out of this cheap building.

Maybe they bugged the room for all I know? I keep hearing about them when some of the mob guys talk to each other and not caring I'm in the room so I know a bit about how they work. Shame I don't have one of whatever they use to "Sweep" a room.

The only thing I could really do right now is collect my thoughts, figure out what the hell they want and go back home tomorrow after Fabien's undoubtedly debaucherous party to get that answering machine message. The hanging clock on the wall to the right behind me told me it would be the late afternoon, 5:30 to be exact. So I've been here for over three hours. I must have been so engrossed that I barely noticed the room turn into a darker one. But still it was pretty bright, it is the summer in Miami after all.

Maybe I should take a look at that mask again. I guess if they did bug my room with a camera and not just a mic I'll give them some kind of result…

Chapter 4: The Masked Maniac

"So you're telling me. Our boys are being battered, knifed, shot and bludgeoned to death by some ass hole in a varsity jacket and a big rooster mask?"

I could not quite believe it myself. But what else do I tell the old man?

"That is what the boys are telling me boss. There is indeed a man with a varsity jacket and a big rooster mask killing our men and tearing our organization apart. Well I use that term loosely but I think that is what he is out to do."

Ivan had just laughed. I kind of liked how he just laughed in the face of whoever or whatever was dumb enough to try and threaten us… well except for the cops and the Feds of course but at least we got the cops around here are not immune tot he allure of everyone's favourite colour and we have our own "plant" in the offices of the FBI. But it is kind of concerning how this guy could just sweep entire rooms of armed men like it was nothing.

"I know this may sound funny but this guy cleared whole rooms of our guys in minutes. This isn't just some vigilante citizen we're dealing with who one day just decided to kill off the criminal element. He knew exactly where our joints were, he handled almost anything he could get this hands on so skilfully as a weapon and he turned our places of business into blood soaked "all you can slaughter" areas. This masked maniac's becoming a problem, a big one."

The don had just sighed and rolled out from under his desk. A hand rubbed his forehead, I guess the humour wore off when the reality of this killing machine set in.

"And we already have the damn Feds to worry about. Well I suppose we should be on our guard. Get word out to everyone about this man. I would be surprised if they haven't already. Press are going crazy over him."

She isn't going to like it. But I should probably get her to guard Ivan for longer time periods. I may actually consider a 24/7 basis as long as this lunatic who thinks he's a rooster is out there.

"I can get Pitunya to make sure you're safe if you like. At least until we get him or the cops do."

His eyes widened, it was kind of every the way his green eyes gazed at me. Ok so maybe they don't exactly care for each other but I can hardly trust my panthers alone with him can I? Not even a bunch of goons who''ll probably just get themselves killed if aim and shoot is all they're capable of.

"Her? I'm not afraid to die so why should I be concerned if he shows up? You know I won't be around for long. You're taking care of business as it is."

I was getting really annoyed at his constant death wishing. He's still advising me so really why can't he see I still need him around just as much as he needs me?

"If you're going to die it's not going to be at the hands of some wannabe superhero in a ridiculous getup."

Ivan's face was crossed with a smile. He turned his wheelchair to face himself away from em so I could look at him from behind. I knew he wanted me to leave as soon as he was done with his next sentence.

"Then you do whatever you feel is best. I suppose him killing me is not one of my most ideal ways to go but anything to have something more dignified I suppose."

I'm glad he listens to me as I listen to him. I took the cue as always and exited through the brown front door. The purple décor around here could be… obnoxious but it's the way he likes it.

Anyway, the two must be hungry by now. Might as well get clean up ready after they're done.

Chapter 5: Horsey

This place stinks. It has to be the worst smell I ever experienced and why the hell do I feel so afraid for no reason? I'm not really sure where this is. It's a bright room, yellow wallpaper with red splattered on it. This place looked like a normal bedroom but not a bedroom I never saw before.

I thought to lightly twirl in a way to observe my surroundings. A stained carpet. Everywhere else is just regular floorboard with a red trail. Now this trail seemed to start at the window,,, it was closed but someone must have climbed in. It was night outside but I couldn't see any lights. Odd.

Then there was the sound. Like squelching, my ears seemed to have curled in disgust if that was possible. I followed the trial with my eyes from the window to the door. Then it disappeared under it, and the noises were coming from beyond it.

Now there was the paralysis. The one you get from fear. Of course my curiosity out did my own fear. I must have been so slow when I tried to approach the door. My feet felt how cold the dark floorboards were. I made sure to avoid stepping on the trail but I may have to either stand with my legs outstretched so the thing is between them or just enter from a side. Yeah I decided on entering from the left where I could open it.

I quickly tiptoed to the left side of the door. The sounds were relentless, all I could do is just place my hand on the metal handle of this white door and find out what the hell is happening in there. But do I really want to?

If it would kill the suspense then definitely.

So the door opened as slowly as I could get it to. I could tell that the inside was clearly some kind of kitchen. It had a baby blue colour to it apart from the white appliances. But this was not the most striking thing about it.

No it was the woman in the horse mask butchering a guy on the counter top in the centre of the room. He was wearing a kind of white jacket with a blue buttoned shirt that matched the colour of the walls. He also wore these fancy white pants and black loafers. Funnily that outfit seemed familiar.

Then the horse looked at me. It's eyes were near impossible to see due to the gaping holes in the mask. But it spoke to me in a feminine voice that seemed oddly familiar.

"You know what it is they want. But do you know what it is they will do if you don't give them what they want?"

I had no answer. Literally nothing came to my mind, oddly when you see a kitchen with red everywhere and a blood soaked woman in a horse mask cutting out the entrails of a dead man, you'd run screaming. But some kind of calm washed over me at the sight of her. It was something… empowering.

She resumed her business after she seemingly disregarded my silence. Then she spoke again in that calm and strangely comforting tone.

"You'll get used to it if you go through with it. But they will have a hard time getting used to you. Like that other one."

"Other one?" Could she mean those killings I heard about on the news? I heard he only targeted Russian citizens so I just thought of him as a racist… a scarily proactive one but still a racist scum bag.

"Oh, and they will expect you to be especially messy. Better be prepared. The box and everything in it won't be enough."

I was so jarred when all of a sudden I was looking up at the white ceiling in what appeared to be broad daylight. With my vision weirdly dimmed and my face feeling warmer than usual, and kind of sweaty.

I could even hear my own breathing as if I was listening to myself through headphones. That was when I realized I fell asleep with this mask on. I barely even can recollect what I did last night to be like this. I must have put it on out of curiosity and then… I just laid down? Why would I do that?

I must have been so fast when I rose myself off of my back and yanked the thing off. I held it up in front of me like a head and those empty eyes looking back… There was a feeling about wanting to fill them and wanting to look at myself. But I decided I did not want to look at something that could potentially one day make me regret it.

I wasn't even hungry. I probably will be soon but I know I won't eat today if there was no doubt in my mind of what will be on the answering machine. I'd like to keep my stomach empty.

As weird as that dream was it made so much sense I kind of wish it didn't.


End file.
